Burdened? (Part 2)

This is the second part of what I was sharing about the Lord's plans often seeming really different than our own plans.  I have edited it in a couple minor ways so it can be read by itself, but I would encourage you to read the first part before beginning this. 

The Lord had plans waiting for me that a half a year ago I would have thought would cause the end of the world.  He had a plan that tonight we would be eating pizza and watching a movie on the living room floor instead of a home cooked dinner at the dining room table because of an unintended (but welcome) house showing at 5:30 tonight. He had a plan that I would be sitting in Isaiah's bed at 9:45, shooting endless "I'm tired, make him go to sleep!" prayers up to the One who was probably laughing with delight.

Yes, delight.  I have a feeling that this is all to Christ's delight.   In one of Paul's letters he mentions a thorn in his flesh.  Some Bible scholars are pretty sure that this is a spiritual thorn, but I've always wondered if it was a real one.  I mean, Paul was human too, right?  And traveling through the rough country of the ancient Middle East couldn't be too free of thorns and other mishaps.  But back to the subject, I thought about Paul's thorn (or "handicap," in Eugene Peterson's Message version) today while looking at the Matthew passage.  I definitely feel like this constant tired and stressed and hectic lifestyle is a thorn, too.  But what did Paul do about his thorn... and what should I do about mine?  Here's his version of the story of his burden:

"Because of the extravagance of those revelations, and so I wouldn't get a big head, I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. Satan's angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At first I didn't think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me,
My grace is enough; it's all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.
Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ's strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become."  (2 Corinthians 12:9-10, MSG)

Sometimes I feel like Paul.  I beg, plead, cry out to the Lord to simply get me through the hard times in my life and lead me to the easier pastures.  But it's not His plan.  It's not what He wants from me.  He wants me to use his strength to deal with my own weakness.  My human limitations, that "cut me down to size," are simply tests to see if I'll be humble enough to be cut down and torn up so I can be blessed enough to be able to see God carry me through and set me safe on the other side.  His delight and happiness only grows stronger as I become weaker and more humble and ultimately are able to say that I surrender my all to Him—that I can't handle this crazy life on my own.  And then, like Paul, I shall be able to say with a fervent thankfulness, "The weaker I get, the stronger I become."

Burdened? (Part 1)

The four youngest are now in bed and the house is quiet enough for me to get some well-deserved writing in.  The last few days, my life has been so busy that I'm wondering once again if this is simply a dream—you know, the kind you wake up from and instead of being the hectic life you remember, it's calm, peaceful, and you're able to do all you want.  But when I got smacked in the face by a sleepy Isaiah hand, I knew that I wasn't dreaming.  This life is real.  And I need to start living it like it is.

I said that my life has been busy.  What I meant by that is that instead of simply doing school work, household chores, and helping my mom out with dinner a little bit, I've been doing school work, household chores, making  dinner, putting the four youngest (Sophia, Emily, Sam, and Isaiah) in bed, and not getting in bed myself until eleven or twelve.  Now, I'm not Cinderella—my mom's not expecting me to do all this every day.  And to be perfectly honest, this is a "scattered" idea of what my days have been like.  I don't always do all the before mentioned things every single day.  But I have been striving toward that kind of responsibility, and I've been learning that when you strive toward such a large amount of responsibility, it's not uncommon to have your hands full.  And only the LORD knows right now how full my hands have been.

I was reading my Bible today and came across the verse in Matthew that says, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gently and humble in heart, and you will find rest for you r souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30, NIV)  This verse kind of jumped out of the paper and hit me, flat in the center of my very tired and stressed brain.  I'm weary right now.  I got home from working six days a week in a kitchen at a Christian summer camp (and trust me, it's an exhausting job!) only to see my dad off on his way to Colorado to begin his new job and realize that the next couple months would be just as exhausting as the last few had been—if not more so.  It's a daunting task to move from state to state, especially when there are five younger kids at home and your mom's pregnant.  So when my dad left Iowa about a month ago, I knew that life wasn't exactly going to be a piece of cake, but I don't think that I expected to be this worn down and well—burdened—about it.  This move is hard on me because I had the false impression that I was rooted in Iowa for at least the next year and a half.  I had wanted to graduate in the same place I started high school... but you know, sometimes God has different plans.

Right now I'm discovering that His plans are the same as my plans... but only if I keep my eyes on Him.

To be continued in part 2.